


His Bard, Eternal

by shy_enby



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Bottoming from the Top, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fae Jaskier | Dandelion, Fairy Jaskier | Dandelion, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Hurt Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Immortal Jaskier | Dandelion, Intersex, Intersex Jaskier | Dandelion, M/M, Mutual Pining, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Pining, Pining Idiots, Protective Jaskier | Dandelion, Smut, Spoilers, Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Wing Kink, Winged Jaskier | Dandelion, Wings, but they don't know it, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:26:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23883742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shy_enby/pseuds/shy_enby
Summary: Geralt is just about to Kaer Morhen with Ciri when he comes across a village that desperately needs his help. He continues taking Ciri to Kaer Morhen so she is safe before turning back to take the job offer. There, he comes across a familiar bard that he had not seen since the dragon hunt with Borch. Can he make things better? Is Jaskier willing to forgive him? Find out here!
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 1
Kudos: 348





	His Bard, Eternal

**Author's Note:**

> This work was inspired by this tumblr post: https://eletainart.tumblr.com/post/612101794092482560/im-very-aware-no-one-really-asked-for-these-but-i
> 
> This is my first Witcher fic! Please let me know how it is!
> 
> If it goes well I may write a sequel :3

It had been five months since he had found Ciri alone in the woods, three since they had reached Kaer Morhen. Geralt had entrusted Ciri to his own former master, Vesemir. He still had one job to complete before returning to stay through the winter. The two of them had passed through a small, forested hamlet. The villagers had begged of him to get rid of the heinous beast that had been lurking in the old cemetery just left of the village. Geralt knew what it was as soon as they described it. The creature had been digging up the fresh graves of a small family who had died of the pox. It feasted on them and on anyone who tried to go near it in an attempt to slay it. The villagers said they could hear the wails of the would-be heroes as they were eaten alive. It was a necrophage, specifically a graveir.

He knew he had to get Ciri to the safety of Kaer Morhen before setting off to do anything else. So, he had promised them he’d come right after taking the girl to his home. The villagers accepted this and would make sure no one was to go near the cemetery before the witcher’s return. He was now back on his way to the village astride Roach to rid them of their hungry pest. It was still early in the day and the graveir would not rear its ugly head until dusk broke. The inn of the small town looked decent enough and he had been on the road for a few hours. He wanted something to eat, perhaps have an ale or two as well, and to give Roach a rest. He guided her into the stable attached to the inn and dismounted. Digging into his pack, he precured a for her a few sugar cubes which she gobbled up happily. “See you again later Roach,” he said before giving her a pat on her flank. And with that he entered the inn in want of a peaceful meal before taking on the beast later, that would be much less peaceful. He had not yet reached the bar to order before hearing “Oh, its you,” in a painfully familiar voice. The gods had decided Geralt of Rivia would find no peace on this day.

He turned to see Jaskier with the most pitiful look on one’s face he had ever seen. For a moment he pondered as to why Jaskier looked so hurt and distraught. Perhaps that Valdo Marx had gotten under his skin again. But when all Jaskier did was turn away and walk to an empty table in the corner, Geralt suddenly remembered the last time he had been with the bard and what he had said. Jaskier sat down refusing to look anywhere except for out the window next to him.

It pained Geralt greatly. He felt a pang of regret and guilt creep into the pit of his stomach. He hadn’t meant the cruel words he had venomously spat at Jaskier atop the mountain. And like Jaskier had replied, it wasn’t fair. Cautiously, he moved towards Jaskier as if one wrong move would upset the bard further. Jaskier id not turn his gaze from the window as Geralt sat down at the table with him.

Even though he would never let it show, he had deeply enjoyed Jaskier’s company the last twenty years since meeting him at Posada. He had been the only person who didn’t reek of fear in Geralt’s presence. The bard had always smelled of contented and of a blossoming meadow in the spring after a rain. Geralt had to stop his thoughts from continuing for a moment to focus on the fact that maybe he enjoyed the bard’s scent a bit too precisely for his own comfort. Even now he caught himself inhaling the stale bar air to pick up on Jaskier. He also smelled the scent of salty tears before looking to see them cascading down in rivets along flushed cheeks. That pang in his stomach grew tenfold.

They remained in painful silence until Jaskier finally turned to look at him. Of course, he would be the first one to speak. “Why are you sitting here witcher? You said you no longer want my presence anywhere near you.” He said sternly, voice not breaking despite his display of raw emotions. Geralt just kept his eyes locked on the slighter man’s hoping he could simply read his thoughts. He had never been good with formulating his words. That had been further proved on the mountain with Yennefer. The thought of her still stung Geralt a bit, but he felt like the whole swarm when it came to Jaskier in this moment.

“Nothing? That’s what I thought,” Jaskier said as he rose from the bench. He turned to leave, but Geralt had caught him by his forearm. One looked just as shocked as the other. Geralt couldn’t help the reflex led by his emotions to keep Jaskier as close to him as possible. He had always felt protective over the bard. Even now, Geralt wanted to protect him from his own words that had seemingly shattered the bard’s heart. He felt Jaskier’s pulse pick up beneath his skin. Then he yanked him down, seated again now right beside Geralt.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly as if there were actually people who could hear. The bar area of the inn was quite vacant. His hand was still wrapped around Jaskier’s arm and he gave a squeeze of reassurance. “Why don’t you come with me tonight? I have something to take care of,” continuing to speak lowly to Jaskier. The bard still looked pitiful buy a hint of a smile graced his lips. He was still upset with Geralt, but he knew for him to even mutter those two words meant he was being sincere. Jaskier got up to get food knowing that’s what Geralt had came in here for in the first place. But when he did, Geralt had a grip on him still. “Relax. I’m just going to get us some chicken pies and ale.”

They sat in companionable silence eating and watching as the sun was going down. Geralt stood up, watching as it dipped below the mountains. He nodded his head towards the entrance of the inn, motioning to Jaskier that it was time to go on the hunt before heading out. Jaskier stumbled off the bench, smiling more now that he once again could be by the witcher’s side on an adventure. He had already left his lute and the rest of his belongings in the room he had rented the previous night. He didn’t have to worry about them getting damaged this time as he so often did.

“So… what are we after Geralt?” he asked on their way out of the village. They had left Roach put since it wouldn’t be too far. “Is it that ghastly corpse-eating abomination that I kept hearing the folks at the inn whispering about?” The grave yard was now in sight. Geralt crouched low on his haunches, sword at the ready. “Geralt? Geralt wha…” Jaskier forgot what he was about to ask as they heard earth shifting beneath on of the grave sites. “Be quite Jaskier! And stay put unless you want to be eaten alive!” He whispered loudly before downing a potion to enhance his senses. Jaskier gulped but he couldn’t figure out if it was what Geralt said about getting eaten or the way the witcher’s eyes were becoming veiled in black. Watching that transition in Geralt had always set his heart a flutter. And he stayed right where he was as Geralt instructed.

Geralt sharply inhaled and smelled the monster at just a couple feet away. He caught sight of it tearing at an older corpse. Must be slim pickings these days. It was hunched over in the grave pit crunching down on bones with its disgusting maw. Geralt made his move and jumped on the graveir’s back to sink his sword down into its brains. But of course, it had other plans. It grabbed Geralt by his ankle, slinging him forward onto the corpse. He tried to get up quickly but he was pinned down by the creature. He managed to grab a dagger that was on his hip and stabbed it in the shoulder. The graveir pulled away and screeched in pain. Jaskier was hid behind a thicket of pines, he couldn’t see what had happened but he held his ears tight, the screech pierced his eardrums.

He peaked around on of the trunks and saw Geralt scrambling out of the pit, reaching for his sword. The creature was faster, it tackled its full weight into Geralt, sending him tumbling over. Jaskier winced when a harsh “crack” echoed in the woods as the witcher’s head collided with a rather large rock. He was disoriented but still conscious. The creature leaned over him, taking advantage of his stunned state. Jaskier could see into is rounded maw full of teeth starting to expand wider. He began to panic and ran from his hiding spot. “Hey over here you big… you big ugly!” he yelled, throwing rocks at it that he found at his feet. His entire focus was dedicated to luring it away from Geralt’s incapacitated form. His efforts were in vein, Geralt’s blood-curdling scream reverberated through his chest as the monster bit into his side. Jaskier’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped in horror. H felt tears welling up in the corners of his eyes.

Now was not the time for crying. He knew what he had to do. It might permanently draw a wedge between himself and the witcher he longed for, but he wasn’t about to watch Geralt die. Jaskier’s expression had grown into one of pure rage, eyes locked on the graveir. The slight crows’ feet that he sported disappeared from his eyes, his face and body slimmed a bit, and great iridescent wings sprouted from his back. A high-pitched sound emitted from his wings as he beat them, it worked to get the monster off Geralt. It screeched again in pain, trying to cover its ears. Geralt turned his head and gaped when he seen the ethereal form approaching. Jaskier bent over him, curling his wings in protectively above the witcher. Jaskier reached to pull out another of Geralt’s daggers strapped to his thigh. With just a flick of his wrist, the weapon took flight and sunk deep into the graveir’s neck with the precision that only magic could perform. Geralt sat up, shaking away his double vision and watched as it dropped dead to the ground. He then turned his focus to Jaskier.

“So that’s why you’ve barely aged…” he said as if he wasn’t surprised, but the look on his face was that of astonishment. Jaskier said nothing in reply, just outstretched his hand for Geralt to take. Effortlessly, he pulled the witcher to his feet. “Jaskier… why have you hid this from me? Why the fuck you hid you were fae from me?” he asked, eyes running the length of Jaskier’s butterfly-like wings that glowed shades of blues, purples, and pinks under the moonlight. He also caught sight of the bard’s pointed ears as he glanced down at the ground. “I just wanted to live a normal life…” tears were spilling down his face again. Geralt didn’t exactly realize it at first, but he had Jaskier’s face cupped in his hands, rubbing away the tears as they came with his thumbs. “I thought you’d hate me more if you knew the truth.”

Jaskier’s words felt like the graveir had just bitten into his flesh again. The bard thought he hated him? Thought he only had the slightest bit of tolerance for him? Geralt squeezed his eyes shut momentarily as he closed the distance between them, the actual bite in his side burning as he moved. If he couldn’t say it with his words, he’d tell Jaskier through his actions. He lifted Jaskier’s chin up slightly with his index finger and gently, even a bit shakily, pressed his lips to Jaskier’s. they were even softer than he’d imagined on all those nights camping on the sides of roads with Jaskier softly snoring beside him on the bedroll.

He had wanted Jaskier since before his very short relationship with Yennefer. He had hoped she would fill the spot in his heart that ached for the bard but thought he could never have him. When they parted, Jaskier threw his arms up and around Geralt’s neck. He buried his face into the witcher’s shoulder where it meets his neck. And with a broken voice said, “you have no clue how long I’ve yearned for that witcher.” Geralt whispered into his ear in reply, “But I do Jaskier. I do.”

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They made it back to the inn within the wee hours of the morning. It was still dark out but the stars were beginning to fade. Jaskier had once again put up his glamour to present himself as human. He had the head of the graveir in his hands and dropped it at the keeper’s feet. “There’s your damned monster!” he said angrily. He knew it wasn’t the villagers’ fault that Geralt had gotten hurt but he couldn’t help how he felt. The keeper hurriedly pulled out a sack of coins and handed it to the witcher who nodded in reply. He was still holding his side but it had already stopped bleeding and was starting to scar over. “And a bath if you please,” he stated to the man more than asked.

When the inn keeper returned down stairs he nodded to the two men that he was done drawing the bath for them in Jaskier’s room. The pain had subsided enough in Geralt’s side for him to walk up the stairs with no help. But that didn’t stop Jaskier from trailing close behind him. Geralt opened the door to the room before Jaskier had even told him which one it was. He could smell that beautiful scent again of springtime meadows. Jaskier brushed against him as he entered and Geralt couldn’t help but hum appreciatively.

Once the door was latched shut, Geralt locked his gaze deep into Jaskier’s. “Show me again Jaskier. Let me see you. The Real you.” Jaskier shuddered at his words and blushed. He obeyed Geralt’s wishes and dropped the glamour once again. His face flushed a deeper shade of pink, like that of a rose as Geralt crowded him against the foot of the bed. “In all my near hundred years of life I have never looked upon anyone as beautiful as you, with or without your glamour,” he said.

Geralt pushed him gently and he fell onto his back onto the bed; his legs dangling off. He started with Jaskier’s doublet, unbuttoning it to reveal soft, brown chest hear and a delicate chemise underneath. He all but ripped it off the bard who was now panting hard, splayed out before him. “B-but Geralt! The bath!” he stuttered, his body betraying him as Geralt leaned down to take one of his nipples between his teeth. He rolled the other between his calloused fingers which only seemed to excite the bard more. Jaskier moaned into Geralt’s mouth as he pulled off and locked lips with him once again, swiping his tongue against Geralt’s. The witcher could smell his arousal heightening and hear his pulse pound harder. “Fuck the bath it can wait,” Geralt replied, now biting hard enough into Jaskier’s neck to bruise.

Jaskier only nodded knowing Geralt could quickly warm it back up with igni. Geralt stood back up pulling is shirt over his head. Jaskier took in the sight of the witcher’s muscled chest, scarred over but still such a treat to ogle at. Geralt’s armor had long been discarded in Roach’s pack that she carried at the stables before they had gotten back to the inn. Jaskier said a silent prayer that he could get to Geralt’s bare skin without going through the hassle of removing all those layers. He could feel the heat radiating off his witcher… yes, his witcher. The thought itself sent a spark of pleasure down his spine.

Geralt was now undoing the button’s of Jaskier’s pants when he realized he had forgotten to tell Geralt one more little thing about his true form. He felt sick more than aroused when Geralt swiftly pulled them down along with his undergarments. The witcher cursed, forgetting to remove Jaskier’s boots first along with his own before returning his attention to him. He was eager to get his hands and mouth on Jaskier’s cock, the one he always bragged about. Except when he looked down only a small mound covered in more soft, brown curls met his gaze. Jaskier looked like he was about to cry again, face all blotchy.

“Jaskier, you’ve pulled more surprises on me in one night than I’ve gotten in the past eighty years of my life,” he said with a smile to let Jaskier know everything was alright, that he was still greatly aroused by his body. His eyes softened in the candlelight as he tilted his head to take in the view. “I know many of your kind are born in between but this had not crossed my mind,” he said as he dropped to his knees before the bard. He took each leg over a shoulder and kept his eyes locked on Jaskier’s as he licked a languid stripe between the lips of his throbbing cunt.

Jaskier nearly howled with pleasure as he arched off the bed, trying to push his hips down to derive more pleasure from Geralt’s mouth and tongue. He had to bite down on the back of his hand when Geralt finally licked into him, feeling his tongue in his most intimate places had him squirting. It dripped down the witcher’s chin who eagerly lapped it up and rose back up now fumbling with his own trousers. Jaskier watched as he only pulled them down enough for him to pull his cock out. The bard gaped a bit as Geralt gave himself a few strokes. He was girthy. Long and thick, he could see the veins pulse as Geralt grew impossibly harder. Jaskier started spreading his legs to accommodate the witcher, but he had a different plan entirely. He lifted Jaskier off the bed, turned on his heel and plopped him down in his lap. Jaskier let out a salacious noise as he felt Geralt’s cock nudge against his opening. His hips started moving on their own accord and he could feel his slick start to trickle down his thighs.

Geralt shushed the squirming man in his arms, stretching his neck a bit to nip at an ear lobe before whispering, “I’m going to fill up that beautiful cunt Jaskier and I will not stop until I finish deep within.” Jaskier swore he had another orgasm, sitting right there untouched in Geralt’s lap, but his thoughts were interrupted as the witcher grabbed his hips and sunk him down onto his girth. Jaskier’s wings shook in delight. His whole body was alighted in pleasure. Geralt kept him in his well-built arms, letting Jaskier go at his own pace. “May I touch them Jaskier?” Geralt asked panting hard as Jaskier bounced on his cock. His cunt was slick, warm, and squeezed around him perfectly. The bard looked confused for a moment, too wrapped up in the feeling of being speared open by the man of his dreams.

His hands left Geralt’s shoulders that he had been using for leverage to seek out the witcher’s which still gripped his hips. He was hoping for bruises left in the shape of Geralt’s hands would form there. He guided his large hands to the base of each wing. Geralt stroked them softly, noticing a bit of a glittery substance on his palms. “Fairy dust,” he laughed a bit to himself. “They’re not fragile Geralt. They won’t break,” Jaskier said, wanting Geralt to be rough with them. He complied and dug his fingers into the bases, pulling down on the butterfly-like wings. That was too much for Jaskier to endure along with every thrust of Geralt’s cock sending white hot ecstasy up his spine and what seemed like through every nerve in his body. The pleasure gathered and pooled in his lower abdomen. Again, his cunt was spilling onto Geralt, this time on his cock, making a mess of the bedspread as it dripped down his balls.

That was it for Geralt as well. Jaskier grew tighter and throbbed around him as he rode out the rest of his orgasm. Forcing Jaskier to stay all the way down by yanking his wings down harder. Jaskier screamed hoarsely as he came for the third time in a row as Geralt’s seen painted the walls of his cunt. Both remained clinging to each other, enjoying the afterglow of their coupling. Geralt looked on at Jaskier’s wings, still fluttering from the pleasure. They glowed oranges, yellows, and pinks in the light of the fireplace.

He kissed him again languidly, tongues intertwining lazily, his cock still inside of Jaskier but had started softening. He pulled out and Jaskier let out a tiny whimper, his thighs shaking. He laid him back onto the bed and curled around him from behind. “Did that prove to you I in no way meant those words on that mountain?” he asked smiling, pulling a blanket over them both. He was also still petting the bard’s… his bard’s silken wings. It almost sounded like Jaskier was purring. “Hmm… I may need more convincing,” Jaskier said coyly and turned to wink at Geralt who laughed in reply. He could feel the deep rumble of it against his back as the witcher pulled him close. Jaskier said one more thing before falling asleep in Geralt’s arms. “Also, fuck the bath, it can wait ‘til morning.”


End file.
